


Your Touch is My Strength (Never Let Me Go)

by BananaChef



Series: Short and Sweet [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: "this is the last time i write about That Scene" i say before once more writing about That Scene, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Larry's gone now YAY!!, POV Jaime Lannister, Reunion, and shagwell's not a fool, blame jb stan twt, btw i've stopped giving fucks abt the show, but does it look like i care??, i haven't watched s8 (yet?), i think, minor appearance of Honor the horse, moon boy's not in it, so idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaChef/pseuds/BananaChef
Summary: “Have you ever run away from a fight?” Jaime replied, studiously keeping his hand moving.His gold hand inhibited him somewhat, and he found himself wishing that he wasn’t such a fool.I’m more of a fool than Shagwell and Moon Boy combined,he thought. Cersei hated his stump with a passion, so he’d put on his gold hand, but now it was stopping him. Maybe it was a sign.“No,” Brienne responded, stepping closer to him. Jaime saw a chill work through her as a breeze waved her pale hair at him.You should have worn something warmer, wench,he almost said. “But this is not a fight. It is a choice.”
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Short and Sweet [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899604
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	Your Touch is My Strength (Never Let Me Go)

“They’re going to destroy that city. You know they will,” Brienne told him calmly, arms folded across her chest in a futile attempt to keep out the cold.

Jaime glanced over at her, getting lost in her expressive eyes even from a distance before pulling himself away. In only a heavy robe lacking the fur mantle Jaime was so used to seeing her wear, she looked small. It was disconcerting; Brienne of Tarth never looked small, and yet...and yet here and now, she looked small and vulnerable.

“Have you ever run away from a fight?” Jaime replied, studiously keeping his hand moving.

His gold hand inhibited him somewhat, and he found himself wishing that he wasn’t such a fool. _I’m more of a fool than Shagwell and Moon Boy combined,_ he thought. Cersei hated his stump with a passion, so he’d put on his gold hand, but now it was stopping him. Maybe it was a sign.

“No,” Brienne responded, stepping closer to him. Jaime saw a chill work through her as a breeze waved her pale hair at him. _You should have worn something warmer, wench,_ he almost said. “But this is not a fight. It is a choice.”

“What _choice_?” he questioned, harsher than he intended. Jaime sighed, resting his forehead on Honor’s flank for a moment, closing his eyes. He felt her presence by his side, and then her hand on his right wrist, pulling him away from Honor to make him face her.

“The choice to be good,” Brienne told him softly, and he opened his eyes, gazing into her own as she casually pushed up his sleeve and attacked the straps of his gold hand. “You don’t need this. You’re not like your sister. You’re not,” she insisted, meeting his gaze with her own. She let the gold hand drop to the ground. “You’re not golden perfection, you’re just Jaime. You aren’t defined by your past.”

Jaime felt tears sting behind his eyes, and he looked to the ground, throat constricting as Brienne forced him to look back into her blue gaze by cupping his bearded jaw with both of her hands. “You’re better than she is. You’re a good man, and you can’t save her. You don’t need to die with her.”

“How am I better? I’ve done so much... How can I get better after all I’ve done? How am I not defined by my past?” Jaime’s voice cracked at the end, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I don’t know how to be good anymore, Brienne. I don’t...”

“I will tell you all the ways you’re a good, _honorable_ man with a kind heart who’s been broken beyond count, but I need you to stay.” Brienne swallowed heavily, pressing her forehead to his. “Stay with me,” she begged, tears clogging her throat. “Please. Stay...”

Jaime slowly reached up and placed his hand over her own, rubbing his thumb on the inordinately delicate skin of her wrist. He swallowed, another tear falling down his cheeks; he let his stump wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as he pressed his lips to hers. Then she opened up to him a little, allowing him to take from her—always a giver, his Brienne—so he did.

Brienne let out something between a sob and a laugh when they pulled apart a moment later, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying one hand in his hair. “Thank you,” Jaime thought she said, but he couldn’t tell since her face was buried in the crook of his neck.

Feeling weary, he let himself go, allowing the tears to flow and his body to wrack with sobs. “I love you,” he told her, over and over again, unable to say it enough. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Brienne cut him off with another kiss, face damp with tears like his own, before pulling away just enough to speak. “I love you too, Jaime. I love you too.”


End file.
